Harry's Dead?
by InterdimensionalHitchhiker84
Summary: What would have happened if Harry had trusted his friends to finish the job? If he had had enough faith in them to know that they could handle things when he was gone? What would have happened if Harry had, instead of coming back from the dead to save the day, moved on? Would his trust have been deserved? What if Harry had actually died? Rating just to be safe.


_So this is the prologue for a story I'm planning on possibly writing about what would have happened if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named actually succeeded in killing Harry in the forest at the ends of book seven._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter universe, and as much as I wish I did, it will always be the beautiful idea of JK Rowling, not me. _

_Spoilers: There may be spoilers from all seven books._

* * *

The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.

"I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let's say…board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply.

"I do not require assistance," said Voldemort coldly. Bellatrix withdrew the hand she had offered. "The boy…Is he dead?"

The death eaters did not move or speak, but all looked toward the boy lying on the ground in the clearing.

"You," said Voldemort, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa Malfoy lifted his eyelid and put her hand on his chest to feel for a heatbeat. There was no response yet, but nonetheless, she whispered into the boy's ear, barely making any sound at all, "_Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle? ...Tell me_! …_Please!_" A tear slid across her cheek and splashed on the surface of the boy's cheek, another one falling to the ground. She bit her lip and sat up.

"He is dead!" she called to the watchers.

And now they shouted, now they yelled in triumph and stamped their feet, shooting red and silver lights into the sky in celebration.

"You see?" screeched Voldemort over the tumult. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! _Crucio!_"

Three times, the boy was thrown into the air, his glasses flying to the side. The body remained entirely lifeless. He fell to the ground to echoing laughter and cheering.

Hagrid's arms trembled as he was forced to pick up and carry the boy who he had for years thought of as, at the very least, a close nephew. His tears splashed on the boy's face as he cradled the body and he heaved with great sobs. He stumbled through the trees, stray branches catching on the boy's hair and robes, and the conquering army followed, still cheering.

"BANE!" Hagrid bellowed. "Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn' fight, yeh cowardly bunch o' nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter's – d-dead…?" He couldn't continue as he broke out in fresh tears.

Voldemort's voice then swelled through the grounds, crashing on the eardrums of those around him. "Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.

"The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continued to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

The group moved forward again, Hagrid still sobbing and moaning the boy's name, halting and forming a line to face the open front doors of the school. Light streamed out from those doors and soon, people began to emerge. They had to see, to know for themselves, that Harry really was dead.

"NO!" screamed McGonagall. Bellatrix laughed, glorying in the other woman's despair. More people came out of the castle and down the stairs, and a girl with torn robes and extraordinarily frizzy hair and a tall boy with bright red hair and lots of freckles echoed McGonagall's shout.

"Harry!" shouted a girl with her long red hair tied back in a messy ponytail, "HARRY!"

And then the entire crowd began to shout, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eaters, until—

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of light, forcing silence upon all of them. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Hagrid carefully lowered the boy onto the grass and stepped aside, tears still dripping steadily down his face. Voldemort began to pace back and forth behind where Harry's body had been laid. "You see?" he said. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled the red-haired boy, and the charm broke, the 'defenders of Hogwarts' shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort with relish, "killed while trying to save himself-"

Another boy, this one filthy and bleeding, with scars marring his features and drying blood changing the colour of his normally light brown hair, charged Voldemort. There was a bang and a flash, and then the boy landed several feet away with a grunt of pain. Voldemort tossed the boy's wand aside and laughed.

"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh before informing her Lord of the challenger's identity.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.

"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.

Voldemort made an offer, telling the boy that he could be a valued Death Eater, but Neville refused vehemently, shouting, "Dumbledore's Army!" to the crowd who answered with a cheer, once again breaking Voldemort's silencing spell.

"Very well," Voldemort answered. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head," he said quietly, "be it."

Voldemort waved his wand and the Hogwart's sorting hat crashed towards a high window, flying right into his hand. "There will be no more sorting at Hogwart's School. There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

He froze Neville in his spot and forced the hat down over the boy's eyes. The crowd moved and the Death Eaters all raised their wands to hold the fighters at bay.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, the hat burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move.

And then many things happened at the same moment.

Hundreds of people came over the walls of the school's grounds, pelting towards the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, a very small giant came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. All the while, the body of the small teenager with broken glasses just lay on the ground, entirely oblivious to the activity around it in its complete lifelessness.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind curse, the hat falling to the ground. And from its depths, he pulled something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle—

The slash of the blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke, Neville sliced off the head of the great snake around Voldemort's neck, and it spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort screamed; he screamed with a fury heard by no one and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet. Right down next to the body of the young boy with dark hair, green eyes, and broken glasses.

Many died. And many more after that. In the end, there were only a few survivors. It was Molly Weasley who effectively ended the fight, but it was not her who struck the last blow. When Bellatrix died, Voldemort could not help but turn towards her, with unbelievable anger his eyes searched for the one who had killed his lover, but as he did, he was struck down, for almost every survivor in the room turned their wands on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when they heard Molly's scream, and hit with dozens of curses at once, the Dark Lord fell to the ground, finally, and totally, dead. Just as lifeless as the Boy Who Lived, still lying out on the hard ground outside the great burning castle. Except he didn't live any more. Neither of them did.

* * *

_Okay, so I came up with this idea while I was half asleep a few weeks ago, so it might be terrible. I read it over though, and I think it has some potential. This first little bit is mostly from the last section of book seven changed just a little based on Harry making a different choice, trusting his friends to do what he knew they were prepared to do. I know it can be boring to read the same words with just minor changes like what I have here, but when the story actually starts, it will leave the book and follow a minor character, maybe Colin's little brother, or maybe I'll go bigger and follow Neville or Hermione, and what happens after the war, in the aftermath of such great death and destruction. _

_If you'd like to see the story continue, review what I've got and offer some suggestions. As soon as I get , let's say, 4 positive reviews, I'll post the first chapter. Happy reading. :)_


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